


What Have You Done?

by NuclearNik



Series: Halloween Drabbles 2019 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Very brief mention of attempted rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 23:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21187721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik
Summary: Written for Hermione's Haven Halloweek 2019 Day 2 - Dark and Dreary





	What Have You Done?

"What have you done?"

The words felt like they'd been ripped from her throat.

"It's better this way, Hermione. Please. Go live your life, free of me."

Tears ran down Hermione's face as watched two Aurors restrain Draco, hands shackled behind his back. "You idiot! You don't get to decide this for me!"

They'd been fine, living a quiet life together under the radar. In love. _ Safe. _

When Hermione's and Draco's paths crossed just one year after the war, they'd found solace in each other, in the broken pieces of their souls that fit together. As they'd grown closer, Hermione discovered a big secret Draco had been hiding from her.

She'd heard the term _ vigilante justice _ but she'd not really seen it in practice outside of films.

The war had changed them all, and for Draco, that meant he had a black mark not just on his arm but in the very fibre of his being. It had spread, feeling like it would swallow him up. He'd felt helpless, angry, bitter. 

So, when he was walking through Diagon Alley one day, and the sounds of a struggle coming from a dirty backstreet were heard, he stopped. As he peered down the alley, he made out the face of Avery Sr. in the dim streetlight. The older man had his hand around the throat of a witch, lifting her up by the neck until the tips of her shoes barely brushed the ground. When he started pawing at the girl's blouse, the world around Draco grew fuzzy at the edges, his vision laser-focused on the scene before him. He hadn't really thought, just simply reacted. Using magic to throw Avery onto his ass, he made sure the girl was alright and steady on her feet before launching himself at that old prick and beating him to a bloody pulp.

It was in that moment that Draco found his purpose: ridding the world of the scum that had somehow, at the end of the war, escaped justice with nary a scratch. The Ministry certainly didn't seem to care that Death Eaters and sympathizers were out there still terrorizing innocent citizens. No, the Ministry was too preoccupied with its own agenda to care about the little people.

So it continued. Draco found bad people and disposed of them. And when Hermione had discovered his mission, she'd reacted with support, rather than the blatant disapproval she'd known he'd expected to get.

On the contrary, she thought his actions were admirable. There were still so many Voldemort supporters running around, attacking Muggle-borns no longer out of duty, but plain, pure hatred.

If you asked Hermione, Draco was making the world a better place, and she admired him for it.

It had been a few years since they'd reconnected, and they'd moved to a little cottage in France where things were peaceful. 

Hermione was finally living the life she'd always wanted—free and loved and not in fear. Lately, though, the two of them had been at odds. Though he didn't dole out mercenary justice anymore, Draco still held the guilt, no matter how many times Hermione told him that she believed he had done the right things. Those raping, murdering arseholes had deserved nothing less than death. 

And sure, maybe a few years ago when Hermione still looked at the world with rose-coloured glasses, she might have found someone taking matters into their own hands wrong and unjust. But things had changed, battles and deaths and torture had taken their toll, and Hermione had not been left unscathed. She simply had no sympathy to spare any longer for those that had chosen the path of darkness.

Just yesterday, Draco had told Hermione that he was utterly undeserving of a witch like her. He'd gone on and on about it, but in the end, Hermione had thought she'd gotten through to him, made him see that they were in the place they were supposed to be—here, with each other.

When Aurors had shown up at their home the next morning, arresting him on charges of murder, she'd known immediately that she hadn't gotten through to him last night.

He had turned himself in. He couldn't live with the guilt of knowing he could compromise Hermione's safe, happy life if he were ever to be found. 

Hermione was devastated, raging and angry that he would take away her choice like that, that he would decide he was better out of her life than in it. 

She wouldn't stand for it. She'd get him the best representation, she'd make the Wizengamut give him a fair trial, and she'd be damn sure they took the fact that he had been acting to protect innocent people into consideration.

As the Aurors dragged Draco away, Hermione stared at him, refusing to look away through the tears that spilled from her eyes. There was pain and an apology in his eyes as he met her gaze. 

This wasn't over. Hermione was determined to show Draco the good in him, and pull him from the pit of self-loathing he'd been sinking into.

Hermione would fix it. 

That's just what she did.


End file.
